Critical Mass
by River of Oblivion
Summary: In the space of a few breaths his world had been shattered.


**Critical Mass**

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**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything in Joss' 'verse, least of all the crew of the _Serenity_.

**Summary: **Mal's thoughts on Inara leavin.' Spoilers (if you can call them that) for everything before "The" movie.

**A/N: **Reviews are love!

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There were few things in the 'verse Mal let himself truly care about, fewer still he loved more than his ship; his crew was one of them. Kaylee, with her cheerful smile and soft heart was the little sister he never had; Wash had easily assumed the role of resident comedian and was quickly able to burrow his way into everyone's hearts, especially Zoë's. That had been a particular arrangement that held a great deal of annoyance for him for a while; at least until he realized that the pilot and his first mate genuinely loved each other. He knew Zoe would always have his back, come rain or shine, just like she had in the war; the fact that she was married to Wash hadn't changed the fact that she was still his closest friend. The Shepherd had become a bit of a father figure to him, giving him advice and counsel whether he wanted it or not. Jayne, questionable loyalty notwithstanding, was invaluable in a fight. He was straightforward and always said what he was thinking; and while that was often a pain in the _tún_, Mal found the blunt mercenary a welcome change from the shady, mysterious folk he often had to deal with. Even the doc and his moon-brained sister had grown on him a bit, something he would only admit if pressed, but was true nonetheless. Then there was her…Inara, a woman he'd grudgingly come to respect despite her profession and previous political stance, someone who he'd come to care about deeply, someone who now held his heart and soul in the palm of her delicate hand.

Mal was going to lose her, his exotic flower, his 'Nara. In the space of a few breaths his world had been shattered; the promises of things not spoken, the hidden glances and feather light touches, the dreams of settlin' down someday with curly-haired, soulful-eyed children…none of it meant anything anymore.

They didn't always agree, and they'd had their fair share of spats, but he had never for one second believed she would up and leave Serenity, and yet it was happening; she'd uttered the words he'd never wanted to hear.

To be honest Mal wasn't sure he'd ever be the same. Inara had the ability to twist up his insides something fierce. He had the hardest time keeping his wits about him when he caught a whiff of her fancy perfume; and his brain stopped in its tracks on the rare occasions she graced him with a smile. No one before her had ever made him feel like that, and he had a powerful premonition no one ever would again. She was unique, special, like Nandi had said.

It wasn't just that she was the most singularly beautiful woman he'd ever had occasion to lay eyes on; Inara had a fire in her he'd never seen matched. In all her manners and graces she exhibited her Guild training, but there were times she'd drop all those fine airs and exhibit her more spirited side. She gave as good as she got, and she wasn't afraid to state exactly what she was thinking. Underneath all them expensive robes and makeup, 'Nara was a fighter, tougher than Jayne and ever' bit as clever as he himself was.

And she was a mystery. Mal still didn't understand why she'd picked his boat to ride on in the first place, and he certainly didn't understand why she was choosing to leave! She'd said it was best for the both of them, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out how feeling like his heart was missin' was what was best for him. Niska's torture hadn't hurt half so bad as this did.

He couldn't ask her to stay…well, maybe it was simply that he wouldn't ask her. Inara had made it very clear that she wanted to keep theirs a strictly business relationship. Problem was, their relationship hadn't been strictly business-like for quite a spell, and you couldn't often go back once that line had been crossed; with 'Nara it would be impossible. The relationship they did have was complicated, a word both of them hated. It was a dance, a haltin,' awkward sort of dance, but a dance nonetheless. They'd waltz closer and closer until one or both of them spooked and then harsh words would fly, opening up a wider, safer distance between them; then they'd start the whole aggravatin' process over again. Mal had eagerly awaited the day when they'd finally give in and tell each other how they felt, for the two of them to finally become dance partners…now that day would never come.

Inara'd burrowed her way too far into his heart for him to be able to let her go easily. More than anything he wished he could drop her off in Sihnon and cheerfully wave goodbye, then fly off into the sky without a backward glance; but in order to do that he'd have to find a way to cut the chord that bound his soul to hers, to break the unbreakable.

He'd known from the beginning that she was trouble with a capital "T." She'd sauntered onto his boat, all painted up and sure of herself, and had somehow managed to get him to agree to her demands. Annoyed as he'd been by her attitude, he couldn't help but be immediately drawn to her. He'd been captivated by her ever since.

Mal wanted to pull Inara close and never let her go; and if that wasn't enough to make her stay, to tie her up and throw her down in the hold so she wouldn't be able to leave. But she wasn't his to keep; she never had been. He had no claim on her and no right to butt into her affairs; and Mal was well aware that if he made any comment to the contrary it would probably earn him a scathing remark, and if he was really lucky, a slap to the face.

He was sure his crew had noticed a change in his behavior. Mal wasn't usually Mr. Cheerful, but he'd gotten to a point in his life where he was almost content; and she had a lot to do with that. In Inara he'd had found what he'd been unconsciously searching for since he'd taken to the skies in a beat up old Firefly with nothing to his name but the clothes on his back and the gun belted to his waste.

She was his serenity.


End file.
